


I'm Losing My Mind Slowly

by Damien_Blake_Potter



Series: Damien's Harry Potter One-Shots [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Harry, Depression, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Blood, Self-Harm, Suicidal Harry, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-07 22:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damien_Blake_Potter/pseuds/Damien_Blake_Potter
Summary: A loud gasp coming from his right made Harry freeze in place, eyes still tightly closed and knife still sitting against the skin of his neck. He wanted to curse whoever charmed the bathroom doors to open and close silently. He didn’t know what to do… Should he lower the knife and confront the person who had found him, or should he just slit his throat regardless of who was standing in the doorway?Before Harry could decide, the person spoke, “Harry… What… What are you doing?” Their voice was trembling slightly, giving away their fear at the situation.Harry tightened his grip on the knife. It was Neville. Neville was the one who had caught him attempting suicide.





	I'm Losing My Mind Slowly

**Author's Note:**

> So... This isn't my best work, but I'm still pretty proud of how it came out. 
> 
> I beta my own work, so please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes so I can fix them! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, and please, if any of the tags trigger you, then proceed with caution if you still choose to read this story.
> 
> (P.S. In this fic, Harry has a stronger friendship with Neville than in canon.)

Harry looked at himself in the mirror. The reflective glass allowed him to see all the guilt, pain, and despair in his deep green eyes. He knew he probably shouldn’t be doing this, but he just couldn’t take living for even one more day with the knowledge that he was the only one who could defeat Voldemort. It was too much pressure for him to handle, and truthfully, he was scared. He didn’t want to be the one who everyone put their hopes on. He didn’t want to disappoint everyone when it became clear that he was no match for the Dark Lord. He didn’t want to have to put on a brave face and stare death straight in the eyes while everyone watched. If he was going to die, he wanted it to be on his own terms. He refused to give Voldemort and his Death Eaters the satisfaction of murdering him. Besides, once he’s dead, the prophecy won’t be in play anymore, and anyone should be able to take down Voldemort once that happens. This really is the best solution that will benefit everyone.

Harry looked down at the sharp knife he had stolen from the kitchens. Well, technically he didn’t steal it, since the house elves had given it to him after he’d asked them to, however reluctant they were to hand it to him. Harry had to wonder if they had some inkling as to what he was planning to use the knife for, cause if they did, they didn’t say anything to his face about it. But a few of the older looking house elves had seemed to look at him with slight fear and sorrowful understanding. They kept silent though, so Harry just assumed that he’d imagined it. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time that his mind had played tricks on him. 

The knife in his hand would have looked like any other ordinary kitchen utensil, if Harry didn’t already know what it was soon going to be used for. All Harry could see when he looked at it, was his friends walking into the room to discover his cold, dead body on the floor, covered in blood, with this very knife still clenched in his hand. He shuddered just thinking about it.

Harry took in a deep breath and then slowly released it. He needed to calm himself down before his nerves got the better of him, but he just couldn’t help feeling extremely nervous about what he was going to do. When all was said and done, what would happen to him? Would he go to the afterlife and be reunited with his parents, or would death just lead to nothing? Would it be like simply falling into a dreamless sleep and never waking up?

Harry didn’t know the answer to his questions, but he tried to be optimistic. Either way, he’d be joining his parents in death, and he’d never have to feel the empty void in his heart that came from their absence ever again. He wouldn’t have to fear for his life year after year, he wouldn’t have to deal with the Wizarding World’s ever changing opinion of him, he wouldn’t have to worry about living up to everyone’s expectations anymore... He would be free.

He knew he was being selfish by doing this, but Harry thought that after spending fifteen years thinking about other people, it was about time he started thinking about himself. He had always let other people control his life, but now he was sick of it. He was not going to let the prophecy rule his life anymore. The prophecy wanted either him or Voldemort to die by the hand of the other. Well, Harry refused to let that happen. He didn’t want Voldemort to have the satisfaction of killing him, and he himself didn’t want to be forced to become a murderer, even though it was highly unlikely that Harry would actually be able to beat the powerful Dark Lord. If Harry couldn’t control anything else, then he at least wanted to be able to control his death.

The only reason Harry hadn’t done this sooner is because he didn’t want to hurt his friends, but at this point, Harry thought he was desperate enough to look past what his death would do to the people who care about him. He just wanted everything to be over; he had been through so much since the night his parents had been murdered, and every year things only got worse and worse. The revelation of the prophecy just hammered the final nail into the coffin.

Harry let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes before slowly bringing the knife up to his neck. He didn’t want to take any chances by slitting his wrists, he might be found before his heart stopped, and Harry just couldn’t allow that to happen.

Harry flinched slightly when the edge of the knife finally met his skin. He was really doing this… All he had to do now is push in and across and then everything will be over.

A loud gasp coming from his right made Harry freeze in place, eyes still tightly closed and knife still sitting against the skin of his neck. He wanted to curse whoever charmed the bathroom doors to open and close silently. He didn’t know what to do… Should he lower the knife and confront the person who had found him, or should he just slit his throat regardless of who was standing in the doorway?

Before Harry could decide, the person spoke, “Harry… What… What are you doing?” Their voice was trembling slightly, giving away their fear at the situation.

Harry tightened his grip on the knife. It was Neville. Neville was the one who had caught him attempting suicide. Why did it have to be one of the very few people who would understand better than anyone else why he was doing this? Neville was one of the few who might have a chance at talking Harry out of ending his life, and Harry really didn’t want to be talked out of this. He didn’t want to live anymore, and he didn’t want to be convinced otherwise.

“Go away, Neville.” Harry whispered quietly after a few moments of tense silence, “Trust me, you don’t want to see this.”

Harry heard Neville take a tentative step closer, “Harry… I’m not just going to leave and let you…” Neville audibly gulped, “Please Harry, just… just put the knife down.”

Harry shook his head slightly, careful not to accidentally cut himself with the knife, “I can’t do that, Nev. Just go back to the common room and forget you saw me here.”

“Harry, I’m not going to leave. I won’t just let you kill yourself like this!” Neville’s voice gained a bit of anger.

“Whether I kill myself or not is not your choice to make Neville. This is my life, and I can do what I want with it!” Harry opened his eyes and turned to face Neville, never moving the knife away from its spot against his neck.

Neville was standing just inside the bathroom. He looked tense and pale. His eyes were wider than normal and they gave away his growing panic, sadness, and slight anger.

“Your life is not just your own! Your death will not just effect you, it will effect _everyone_! Especially the people who care about you! You can’t do this, Harry, please!” Neville begged desperately.

Harry stared at him blankly, “All my life, I’ve worried about other people… I’m sick of it, Neville. I just want to think about myself for once. And I just can’t _live_ anymore Neville! After everything I’ve been through, I’m just _done_, Nev! I don’t want to be here anymore, I can’t take the pressure of being _me_ anymore! I can’t stand being The-Boy-Who-Lived! I can’t stand being the so-called Chosen One!” Harry paused to catch his breath while Neville stared at him in shock at his outburst. Once Harry felt he could speak without shouting again, he continued in a quiet voice, “I just want out, Nev… Please… Just let me go…” He begged.

Neville took a hesitant step towards Harry, but froze in place when Harry’s grip on the knife tightened. “I’m sorry that you feel like that, Harry… but I can’t just stand by and let you cut open your neck…” Neville eyed the sharp blade warily, “You don’t have to do this, Harry. You have so many people who are willing to help you defeat Voldemort… You don’t have to go through this alone. Just let us help…”

Harry shook his head sadly as tears started to gather in his eyes, “It doesn’t matter, Neville… Even with help I don’t have a hope in hell of defeating Voldemort… I’m not strong enough to go up against him and win. The only reason I’ve even survived _this_ long after all of our encounters is because of sheer dumb luck! And sooner or later Nev, my luck is going to run out, and I don’t want to be here to experience whatever Voldemort has in store for me when that happens!” Harry couldn’t hold back his tears any longer, as he let out a sob, “I’m terrified Neville… And I just can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry.” Harry finished heartbrokenly. He shut his eyes so he didn’t have to endure the anguished expression on Neville’s face anymore, and started pushing the blade of the knife into his neck, whimpering slightly when he felt it start to bleed. He ignored Neville’s cry of utter panic.

He could not however, ignore it when a new, but familiar voice yelled, “Harry! Stop, please!”

He held the knife still, but did not move it away from the still bleeding wound on his neck. He opened his tear filled eyes to see Hermione and Ron standing just behind Neville, who had clearly taken a few steps towards Harry in an effort to stop him from hurting himself even more than he already had. Hermione had been the one to yell out.

“Ron… Hermione…? What are you guys doing here?” Harry asked nervously. Both of his best friends were white as a sheet, and tears had already started to run down Hermione’s face, while Ron barely managed to keep his own tears at bay. They’re expressions were full of horror, their shock and fear of the situation obvious. Harry also noticed that Neville had finally lost his battle against tears and had begun crying silently, all the while keeping a vigilant eye on the knife against Harry’s neck.

Ron seemed to come out of his horrified stupor enough to explain, “…We…We were coming up here to fetch you and Neville for Dinner… But we heard Neville’s yell just as I opened the door to our dorm… Harry… Please, take the knife away from your neck…” Ron looked about ready to faint, he was so pale.

Harry slowly shook his head, “No… No, I can’t, Ron. I… I have to do this… This is the _only_ way I can be free… This is the _only_ way I can find peace.” Harry released a shaky breath, “Voldemort is going to kill me eventually anyway. Might as well end it all now so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of killing me himself.”

“Harry… Harry _please_… You can’t think like that… Things will get better. You’ll be able to defeat Voldemort, I know you will. Please Harry, what would your parents say if they knew you were trying to commit suicide?” Hermione asked tearfully.

Harry stared at her, feeling numb even as tears continued to leak from his eyes, “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. My parents are dead… Sirius is dead… But that doesn’t matter either… Cause I’ll soon be joining them.” Harry gave a small, broken smile at his three friends, “And then I’ll finally be happy again.”

Hermione let out a sob that she desperately tried to hold back while Ron and Neville struggled to hold in their own grief. All three of them knew they were running out of time to talk Harry out of this. If they didn’t get that knife away from him soon, he would die.

Harry closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the knife, but before he could continue cutting into his neck, Neville spoke up.

“Harry, you don’t really want to cut open your neck in front of the three of us do you? Are you really going to curse us with the gift of being able to see Thestrals by making us watch you bleed to death?” Neville spoke quickly. He knew he was being a bit harsh, but right now he would say anything if it would get Harry to drop the knife that was currently threatening his life.

“If you don’t want to watch, then leave and let me do this alone. I’d rather not do this with you watching me but I will if you refuse to leave!” Harry insisted tearfully, trying desperately to hold onto his resolve. He had to do this.

“Harry… Please… Please don’t do this!” Hermione begged desperately, choking on a sob.

Harry looked at the three of them as tears blurred his vision. He shook his head slowly, “I’m sorry… But I can’t…” He let out a desperate sob, “Please… Just let me go…” Harry slowly backed up until his back hit the wall of the bathroom. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. The knife was still dangerously poised at his neck.

The trio in the doorway cautiously approached Harry, before kneeling just out of arms reach in front of him. Neville hesitantly shuffled a bit closer until he could gently place a hand on Harry's knee, before he gave it a small squeeze. “Harry.” His voice was soft, but serious, “Harry, look at me. Please.” He begged when Harry didn't move.

Harry slowly brought his eyes up to meet Neville's, and the look of hopelessness and desperation in them made Neville want to scream or sob or break something. Instead, he determinately held Harry's gaze and spoke.

“Harry, I do not know exactly how you feel right now, nor do I understand how hard it must be to be in your situation, what with you being the Chosen One and everything… But I do know that the three of us, _and_ many others, would be willing to help you get through this. We care about you, and we want to see you get the chance to be happy. Please, at least give us the chance to help you, Harry. I know for a fact that the three of us will not let you face Voldemort alone, and we will do everything in our power to make sure you are prepared to face him.” Neville paused for a moment to take a deep breath, and then slowly continued, trying not to breakdown as he said, “The three of us will always be here for you, Harry. Even…”

Neville decided to take a big risk here, because even though he really didn’t want Harry to die, he also didn’t want to force him to keep on living if he didn’t want to. If Harry was ever going to recover and be happy again, he had to want to recover and make that choice for himself, otherwise any efforts to help him would all be pointless. “Even if you still choose to die today… We’re not going to leave you alone. We’ll be right here with you until your last breath. There is nothing, _absolutely nothing_, that could make us leave your side, no matter what you choose to do. We love you.” Neville finished sadly, desperately hoping that Harry will choose to live, but knowing that the chances of that are still very low. But what he said was true, if Harry chooses to die here today, they were not going to let him die alone, he would die surrounded by three people who love him.

While Ron and Hermione were absolutely terrified that Harry would still choose to kill himself, they agreed with everything that Neville had said, they were not about to abandon their best friend at a time where he needed them the most. They knew that Harry had been through a lot, a lot more than anybody should have to experience in a lifetime, so they understood why he felt like he had to die, but they still silently prayed to any god who would listen that Harry choose to keep on living.

As the three of them surrounded Harry, they knew that there was nothing else they could do or say that could potentially talk Harry down. They had played all their cards, and now the final choice was up to Harry; If he would live, or if he would die.

Harry was crying so much it was hard for him to see through the tears, but he still saw the nods that Ron and Hermione gave him as they each met his eyes, and he saw as they each moved to sit on either side of him, while Neville stayed kneeling in front of him. He was so conflicted, he didn’t know what he should do anymore, but he felt so relieved to know that no matter what he choose, his three best friends would be with him till the end.

Harry moved the knife a little bit away from his neck so he could cough and take a few deep breaths without worrying about hurting himself even more. He wanted to calm down a bit before he made a decision on what to do with his life. He used his free hand to wipe the tears off his face as his body shuddered and jerked slightly from holding back sobs and hiccups.

“I’m… I’m scared.” Harry whimpered.

“Scared of what, Harry?” Neville asked gently.

“Of dying… Of—” Harry hiccupped tearfully, “Of living…” He shook his head sadly, “I don’t know what to do… I don’t wanna _be here_ anymore but…” He closed his eyes and choked back a sob.

“…But?” Ron asked softly.

“But…” Harry sniffed, “I don’t wanna just give up my life either… I _want_ to have a future, I _want_ to be able to live my life in peace…” Harry reached up and tugged at his hair in frustration. “But as long as Voldemort is around I’ll _never_ have that. It doesn’t matter if I were to leave or try to disappear, he’ll _never_ stop coming after me! I’ll always be looking over my shoulder, wondering if this will be the day when my luck finally runs out!” Harry’s voice had risen a little during his rant, until he finally shouted, “IT’S NOT FAIR!”

Harry threw his head back and let it hit the bathroom wall, hard. He did it a second time, but when he tried to do it a third, he was stopped by both Ron and Hermione putting a hand behind his head.

“Harry, stop!” Hermione said, frightened by Harry’s actions.

“Come on mate, doing that isn’t going to help anyone. Just please, calm down…” Ron urged.

Harry sniffed and let out a heavy sigh as he let his head fall forward to rest his forehead on his knees. He adjusted his arm so the knife was up against his neck again, and pushed it in slightly, causing him to hiss in pain. He felt more blood start to run down his neck, likely staining his shirt.

The trio sitting around him watched wide-eyed, each of them holding their breath, wondering how far Harry was gonna go.

Harry let out a shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to build up the courage to do it. Merlin, he wanted to do it_ so bad_… but something was keeping him from making that one fatal move that would finally end his pain. He just couldn’t help thinking that ending his life wouldn’t truly end his suffering, it would just transfer it to the people he cares about, and no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it’d be worth it to find his peace, he knew deep down that it wasn’t worth it at all. Nothing was worth putting his friends through that.

He thought he was ready for this, but now that he was able to think a little clearer, he realized that he wasn’t ready to die _at all_. There was so much he still wanted to do, places he wanted to see, things he wanted to learn… But he was scared, because even if he chose to live today, Voldemort could decide to come and kill him tomorrow for all he knew. He had no idea how he was going to make it through a confrontation with Voldemort, but he knew now that he wouldn’t be alone during it. His friends had just told him they were not going to leave him no matter what, maybe he _should_ give them a chance to help him? Maybe he _could_ gather whatever strength he had left and make it to tomorrow, to next week, to next _month_, maybe even to _next year_ if he was lucky? And maybe, _just maybe_, he’d defeat Voldemort and go on to live a long and happy life?

His future was full of uncertainties, but in that moment, Harry made a choice... And because of that choice, the future was actually possible.

Harry gathered up all the strength he could muster, both mental and physical, and raised his head while moving the knife away from his neck, then he threw it across the room, where in landed on the floor with a metallic ‘_clink_’.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville stared at him in shock for about five seconds before they were all crying with relief, and pulling Harry into the middle of a tight group hug.

“Oh Merlin, oh Merlin… Harry—I… Oh _thank you__! _Thank you for choosing to stay, we love you so much Harry…!” Hermione sobbed into her best friend’s shoulder. Ron and Neville expressed similar sentiments, unable to stop their tears after coming so close to losing Harry.

Harry, for his part, was also crying, but that didn’t stop him from smiling at his friends as they showered him with love and care. He knew things were still going to be rough, he knew he would have days where he would regret not slitting his throat when he had the chance, and he knew that the threat of Voldemort wasn’t going away anytime soon; But he also knew that no matter what happened, his best friends would always be there for him, and here, in this moment, the future had never looked brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story! 
> 
> Please leave a kodos and leave a comment! Constructive criticism is welcome!


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